Over The Rainbow
by D.B. Rae
Summary: Okay, this has turned into a series suddenly. Snippets from the Enterprise and the new family within.  MPreg, Kidfic, Slash, Outsider POV, K/S
1. Sway

POV: McCoy

Year 4 - 1st 5yr mission

It was coming. Any moment now, the distress call would come and McCoy would leap into the fray and offer whatever assistance he could. He'd had years of preparation and practice under his belt and he was ready, would never be more ready or willing to aid another than he was at this very moment. Only…his comm remained silent.

It had been a long labor. Nineteen hours of contractions and cramps and Jim threatening Spock's life should the Vulcan even look at him again let alone try to touch him. Nineteen hours for the baby to reach stabilized levels when extraction would be possible. Then there was a squalling baby, with ten fingers and ten toes, two pointed ears and Jim's ability to project loudly.

Her name was T'Sai Amanda something unpronounceable (that almost made Jim cry when he heard it). She had a dark cap of hair, Jim's lips, Spock's cheekbones and clear blue eyes that was not the standard for Vulcan babies, therefore Spock was certain they would remain blue much to Jim's delight. She also had been crying for forty minutes without stop.

McCoy had left the three of them alone to examine their daughter and coo at her every move, but he knew that the sedative had worked its way through Jim's blood stream by now and that their illustrious captain would now be dead to the world, no doubt drooling in his stupor. That left Spock to deal with the child, and McCoy ready and waiting to avail himself when the plea for assistance finally came through.

He updated Jim and Spock's personal files, added T'Sai to his growing number of charts, scheduled her first check-up and drank a celebratory glass of Bourbon and still no call came. He was beginning to worry that Spock had resorted to nerve pinching the child to sleep so he crept quietly from his office to peak into Jim's isolation room.

He experienced momentary panic at the silence that met him when he peered through the door but it quickly faded at the sight before him. Sure enough, Jim's quiet snores filled the room and there was a tell-tale patch of moisture at the corner of his gaping mouth. Then he shifted his gaze to Spock and what he saw had McCoy reaching to initiate the recording device set into the wall. No doubt Jim would want to see this for himself, and maybe McCoy would want proof when he told everyone he had ever met about this moment, since no one would ever believe him otherwise.

Spock was holding T'Sai against his chest, rubbing a soothing hand against her back, pressing soft kisses to her fuzzy hair, and swaying gently back and forth. It was a scene McCoy had never anticipated and the open tenderness displayed on the Vulcan's face caused his chest to fill with a sudden tightness. When Jim grunted in his sleep, Spock reached down and ran a hand through his hair to calm him. Sliding his hand down to lay over Jim's heart, Spock rested it there and allowed a soft smile to overcome his features as he began humming an ancient Terran lullaby about dreams coming true.

Backing out of the room, McCoy stopped the recording and sent it to Jim's inbox before deleting the hardcopy. This moment was for them, McCoy would just be grateful he had been allowed to witness it and leave it at that. Checking Jim's stats one last time from his medi-padd, McCoy took himself off to his bed. And if he walked the halls with a lullaby on his lips and a swing in his step, no one commented on it.


	2. Raspberries

POV: Chapel

Year 2 of 2nd 5yr mission

T'Sai: 4 and 1/2 yrs old

The action and adventure had lured her into Starfleet, lured her away from the humdrum normalcy of small town nursing. Christine had wanted something different than patching up drunkards and reckless teens. She had wanted space and its wonders and mysteries…and in the seven years she had served under Dr. McCoy on the _Enterprise,_ she had seen many wondrous and mysterious things, had treated and cured all manner of strange illnesses and biological hiccups. She loved her job and wouldn't trade it for the universe. Some days she really hated her job.

"Christine!" She sighed and turned to the red-faced man glowering at her from across sickbay. They were near to overflowing from the outbreak of Trexalion Pox and Dr. McCoy, she could see, was nearing the end of his tether.

"Yes, Doctor." She kept her voice calm, serene. It wouldn't do to let him see how frustrated and tired she was. It would just add to his own ire and cause a tirade that nobody needed to hear just then. The sickness had started shortly after the return of the landing party and had quickly spread throughout the ship. It was a harmless little virus, small bumpy rashes spread over the dermal layer accompanied with slight nausea and chills. It was, in many ways, similar to Terran Chicken Pox. In fact, those suffering from this current outbreak were those who had never contracted Chicken Pox in their youth.

The treatment was simple, a hypospray of anti-nausea meds, application of Tordian lotion and plenty of fluids and rest. So very simple, but for the extremely low tolerance to discomfort some of the crew seemed to possess. The male population of the crew, to be specific. And if she was a betting woman, she would lay money on one male in particular being the cause of the good doctor's current temperament. Patient Zero, also known as Captain Kirk, had the uncanny ability to push every last button McCoy possessed until the doctor was pulling his own hair and stammering in unintelligible rage.

"Would someone please explain to me how the hell medical leave translates into double shifts? That man is going to be the death of me. Sitting up there in his chair like he's not susceptible to the same ills as every other damn person on this ship. What the hell is wrong with him? Truly. Explain it to me. I implore you to tell me how he can think scratching himself raw on the command bridge for sixteen hours straight is conducive to healing." McCoy fumed as he prepared a hypo with enough sedatives to knock out a Klingon.

"I believe, Doctor, that he wanted to leave Spock free of duty to care for T'Sai in the privacy of their quarters. He also wouldn't want to bother you for more lotion as he's fully aware we are low on supplies, that additional supplies are still fourteen hours away and that you're still angry at him for contaminating the ship."

McCoy merely grunted his response and thrust a bottle of lotion into her hand.

"Take that to Spock. Make sure to scan the sprite and send her vitals to my padd. Oh, and let Spock know that his husband will be unconscious in sickbay for the foreseeable future."

With that, McCoy exited sickbay with a bounce in his step. It never failed to equally amaze and amuse her how positively cheerful that man became when the opportunity arose to jab the captain with a hypospray.

"Will do, Doctor," she replied to his back before setting off for the officer's quarters.

In the last refit, between the end of their first five-year mission and the onset of their second, Starfleet had taken it upon themselves to redesign the captain's quarters. It had been a lovely surprise for Jim and Spock when they returned to see their quarters combined into a family friendly living space. They now had an entryway which housed their shared office and comfortable seating for guests or themselves when enjoying downtime. They had gained a private bedroom for themselves as well as one for T'Sai. Starfleet had even gone as far as to paint four different murals of four different seasonal planets for T'Sai. It was known to everyone, without it ever being said, that Scotty had been responsible for the design of the suite while Nyota had painted T'Sai's room.

Christine reached their quarters and chimed for entrance. She waited a full minute before letting herself in. It was a steadfast rule that no one was to enter if the privacy light was engaged, but if it was not, they were welcome to enter without waiting for admittance. Chiming was really only an announcement made to be polite.

The common room was empty, but giggling could be heard from T'Sai's room. Crossing to the door, she observed the scene before her and felt her affection for her Commander rush over her anew.

Spock lay sprawled across T'Sai's bed, clad in loose fitting pajamas, hair a mess, blowing raspberries onto his daughters stomach. T'Sai's giggles echoed off the walls mixed with squeals of delight as she squirmed and tried to dodge her father's lips. Long fingers danced over her skin eliciting more giggles and flailing limbs.

"Do you yield?" Spock's rich baritone leaked amusement into the atmosphere and Christine had to hold her hand over her chest to contain the heart that wanted to leap out.

"No! I shall never yield, papa."

"If you do not yield I cannot cease this torture." Spock tweaked her tiny ear to demonstrate his point.

"Never!" T'sai's giggles once more filled the room as Spock leaned over and blew forcefully against her side, right over her heart. Tiny hands grasped at Spock's hair as she curled her body around him in her fit of 'torture'. "Okay. Okay! I yield!"

Spock leaned back and ran a hand through her dark hair. "A wise decision, dan-tal-kam. I am highly skilled in this torture technique. You may ask your father for confirmation of this fact."

"Daddy says it's unfair that you're not ticklish like us."

"It may be unfair; however, it is the only weapon I have in my arsenal to sway stubborn captains and children who refuse to bathe."

"It still itches, papa." T'Sai moved to scratch at a bump on her arm but Spock stopped her before she could.

"I know, ashaya, but the warmth of the water will ease your discomfort. Trust me in this."

"And on that note, I have more lotion for you." Christine's comment brought forth twin expressions of surprise.

"Forgive me, Christine. I did not hear you enter." Spock stood to accept the lotion and made an attempt to straighten his hair into some semblance of order.

"Nothing to forgive, and in my medical opinion," she spoke directly to T'Sai as she stepped forward to scan her, "A warm bath will indeed help relieve the itch."

"You're all conspiring against me!" With a dramatic cry, T'Sai flung her arm across her face and plunged an imaginary dagger into her heart. This action earned an audible sigh from Spock who glanced at the ceiling while uttering 'Jim' under his breath.

"I'll leave you to see to her bath." Christine wanted to leave before she could no longer contain her laughter. As she turned to exit the room, she remembered her secondary assignment. "Oh, and Dr. McCoy wanted you to know that Jim and he will be spending some quality time together so don't worry if you don't see him for a day or two."

"How many hyposprays did McCoy take to the bridge?"

"Oh, just the one containing the sedatives. The rest are ready and waiting for when the captain's less conscious." Grinning at the twitch of Spock's lips, Christine made her departure. Returning to sickbay and the filled beds and the complaining patients she could only smile.

Some days, she really loved her job.

dan-tal-kam: dearest

ashaya: love


	3. Ever Shall Be

POV: Uhura

Year 3 of 1st 5yr mission

It was 2200 hours and Nyota was beginning to fume. Her shift ended thirty minutes ago; however, she couldn't officially sign out until obtaining the captain's or first officer's signature approving her department's updated duty roster. It would then need to be entered into the ship's computer system to enable the automatic notification function to alert crew members of their schedules. She was looking at a good hour's worth of work still, and that was after tracking down her commanding officers.

In her mind, Nyota had already placed the blame for her late night solely on the captain's head. It was habitual now, after six years of having Jim Kirk forced into her life and the last three of serving under his captaincy. She found that she was almost looking forward to having another opportunity to lay into him for dereliction of duty and irresponsible behavior. It was what they did, how they operated, and she had no reason to change a routine that worked.

It wasn't as if she didn't like her captain. No, in fact Jim had somehow managed to worm his way into her affections and she wouldn't hesitate to call him a friend. It was only…when she and Spock had terminated their relationship she hadn't expected Jim to swoop in and snatch up the suddenly available Vulcan.

It stung to know that she had given up too easily. To know that Jim Kirk, of all people, was now bonded eternally to her ex-boyfriend, well, it irritated her to no end. Spock was content, that was plain as day. She just couldn't wrap her mind around the situation. Jim was, to put it mildly, exuberant while Spock was not. Sure, Spock had changed in the last few years. He was no longer as stand-offish as he once had been. He joined in with social activities at Jim's insistence and had made a place for himself among the crew of the _Enterprise_. Together they were an unstoppable team, professionally the best duo in Fleet, and personally the best of friends. Some would even say they were as close as brothers. But bondmates? She could not, would not ever understand.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Nyota paused in the middle of the hall. She was on the science deck and hoped against all hope that she would find Spock in one of the labs working diligently into the night as he was prone to do. She was tired, her feet were sore and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed for at least 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep. At this point in the evening she would happily forgo the opportunity to chew Kirk out if she could just get some rest and soon. She resolved herself to tracking down one of the signature's she required, turned the corner of the quiet corridor and stopped dead in her tracks.

Her quarry stood at the end of the hall illuminated by the ship's evening light setting and looked about ready to have it out. She had been witness to a few of their disagreements before and didn't particularly care to witness another. For all of his Vulcan calm, Spock couldn't seem to contain his anger when Jim was involved, and he tended to lose himself in the heat of their arguments. In all the years she had known Spock, it was only since meeting Jim that she had ever heard the Vulcan yell.

Dithering on whether to intrude or slip away Nyota watched Spock begin to glow with unnatural paleness. His gaze swept to the floor then back to meet Jim's. At the same moment, she and Jim both took a step in retreat. She hadn't seen Spock look that blank since before Nero, since before Vulcan. She almost called out then, to draw their attention. She ached to comfort Spock, to hold him against whatever it was that Jim had done to make him retreat back within himself. Before she could do anything she watched in shock as Spock closed the distance between Jim and himself and proceeded to kiss the shit out of him.

Spock pushed Jim against the nearest bulkhead and just devoured his mouth. That was the only word for it, Nyota thought in amazement. Spock was devouring Jim right in front of her and she could not look away. The sight was unbelievable. If she went to any random crew member and spoke of this, this thing that was currently happening, they would never believe her. Did Spock have a temper? Yes. Did Spock lose himself to passion and participate in public displays of affection? Hell to the no! Okay, Nyota amended to herself, there was that time in the transporter room while they were together. But, no, that was mostly a 'don't get killed or do anything illogical' kiss and it was not passionate. This display that she was now currently witnessing, this was passion.

She could hear a few grunts from the other end of the hall and that startled her out of her stupor. They wouldn't. Were they really going to do that right in the open? Surely not. But as she watched Spock sank to his knees in front of Jim. Ready to flee at what she thought was going to happen, Nyota was not prepared for Spock to place his hands on Jim's waist and lower his head until his forehead rested just below Jim's ribcage.

"Jim." Awe suffused Spock's voice and Nyota had never heard that soft, reverent tone from him before.

She continued to watch while Jim carded his hands through Spock's hair, tension that she hadn't noticed before draining out of him at the sound of his name.

"Thank God, Spock. You had me scared for a minute. Thought...thought maybe you didn't want it."

Nyota had no idea what they were talking about, but the moment suddenly seemed too intimate to bear. When Spock wound his arms around Jim and pulled Kirk against him, when Jim reached toward the face still pressed against his abdomen and smoothed away a stray tear, Nyota finally fled. She reached her quarters in record time and tossed the unsigned roster atop her nightstand before collapsing fully dressed across her bed.

She couldn't understand what had just happened. All she knew was that she suddenly did understand Spock and Jim. Jim and Spock. They were, would always be, and the rightness of it settled deeply into her core. It was ridiculously clear to her that she had never stood a chance with Spock and that somehow made everything easier. It wasn't something she had done or failed to do, it was just how it was always going to be. With that thought echoing through her mind she turned on her side and began to drift into sleep.

She'd get the damn signature in the morning.


	4. Traditions

POV: Richard Giotto (aka: Cupcake)

Year 5 of 2nd 5yr mission

T'Sai: 7 and 1/2 yrs old

God damn, but New Vulcan was hot! With sluggish, heat exhausted limbs, Chief Security Officer Richard Giotto lowered his bulky, perspiring frame onto a boulder. As his ass made contact with the clay colored rock he nearly jumped back to his feet. The heat emanating from its surface was scorching and made his posterior tingle unpleasantly but he was simply too tired to carry his weight any longer. He was a big guy, and even though he was agile and quick in a fight when speed was necessary, the gravitational force and surface temperature of the new Vulcan home world pressed down on him, turning his legs to jelly and his lungs to fire.

He didn't bemoan the fact that he had willingly volunteered for this assignment, that he could have easily and quite rightly delegated this task to any first year ensign in his department. He hadn't delegated this job for one very simple reason. And that reason stood thirty feet away among a group of Vulcan children in what passed for a playground. Or rather, an outdoor, agricultural classroom. It was a garden to his unimpressed eye. A stark, prickly, sand covered garden. But the children seemed interested and that was enough for him.

He had spent the first three hours of his day in a hot, stone building watching kids in sunken pods answer astoundingly difficult questions and another four traipsing all over the damn city on some as-of-yet-undefined field trip. He didn't understand it. Didn't want to understand it. He was here to keep an eye on the sprite and that was all. It could be argued, and by all accounts was (quite spectacularly in fact by the captain) that there were no dangers on this planet and T'Sai was perfectly safe among the company of Vulcans. The captain had been overruled by Commander Spock with one raised eyebrow and a pointed glare.

The commander's concern wasn't unwarranted. In her short seven years of life, T'Sai had managed to rack up a heck of a rap sheet of troublesome deeds that nearly surpassed Kirk's in size. Between her 16 hour disappearance mid-warp when she was only 3 and last months' replicator malfunction due to tiny hands and Vulcan smarts, she'd managed to earn her own personal bodyguard/babysitter at the insistence of a stunning 98.73% of the crew who had signed the petition. It was agreed that two sets of eyes were better than one, and if one of those sets belonged to a highly skilled and expertly trained Starfleet security officer, then that was just less opportunity for catastrophe. The child appeared, against all odds, to have inherited the worst aspects of her parents personalities, and this created a walking, talking, ticking bomb.

If she wasn't so damn adorable the crew would most likely have mutinied by now.

So, here he sat, sweltering and perfectly miserable while the captain and first officer attended a council meeting to determine what continuing aid was needed for the following year and his shipmates enjoyed a free day in blessed air conditioning onboard the _Enterprise_. And truthfully, he wouldn't be anywhere else. For all her mischievous deeds, she was the heart and soul of the ship and there was not a single crewmember who wouldn't give his or her or its life for her…or smack down a rude Vulcan child who had just dared to push _his_ sprite to the ground.

He was on his feet in an instant, the gravity and heat all but forgotten at the sound and sight of T'Sai hitting the ground, hard. He strode forward quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent what happened next. Honestly, he wouldn't have stopped it had he foreseen the event. One second T'Sai was splayed out on the ground, the next she was up and swinging. Her fist connected solidly with a young Vulcan male face and that young Vulcan male became the splayed out form on the ground. With a final step, Giotto placed himself between T'Sai and the growing group of children and teachers gathering around the scene. For all the propaganda purporting a Vulcan's lack of emotion, the ensuing chaos shot their bullshit all to hell.

The children glared at T'Sai and demanded her punishment. The teachers spoke over each other as they espoused the values of Vulcan and T'Sai's utter lack of decorum and logic. He wasn't a highly educated man, but he recognized a slur when he heard it and that was _all _he heard pouring out from these Vulcans' mouths. Phrases like 'tainted blood' and 'inferior breed' hit his ears like hammers and had his blood boiling. Hands fisted at his side, he was seconds away from laying someone, anyone, out when Commander Spock appeared next to him, T'Sai held safely in his arms. The commander must have run from the council chambers as soon as he sensed distress from his parental bond to have arrived so quickly.

A sharp bark of sound he couldn't decipher left Commander Spock's mouth and it instantly quieted the mob surrounding them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the commander standing arrow straight, tension radiating off his stiff form. His expression was pure ice but the commander's eyes blazed with tangible fury.

"Explain." The word was low and guttural, like an animal giving warning before ripping your face off. Giotto was eternally grateful that it had not been directed at him.

"Yes. I believe I too, would appreciate an explanation." This new voice came from a tall, severe looking Vulcan who stood behind the boy with the copiously bleeding nose. _Oh shit_. Two alpha males protecting their young, he was sure more blood was about to hit the Vulcan sand.

Words filled the air in rapid fire succession but it was entirely lost on him. Whatever was being conveyed about the incident was being said in Vulcan. The teachers spoke first, then a few children joined in. They were obviously giving their account of the incident. From the defiant jut of T'Sai's chin and the angry flush of color spreading across her pale face, he could assume they were either lying or being extremely uncomplimentary. Or, judging by what he'd witnessed already, a distasteful combination of both. When the boy who had pushed T'Sai spoke up she nearly leapt from the commander's arms in her attempt to strike him again.

"You shut up! You don't know anything about my parents you, you lackwit! I'm happy to be a half-breed if being full-blooded means I'd be as stupid as you!"

"Enough. Shh." The commander stroked a hand through his daughter's hair to sooth her anger away and press a kiss to her brow. He spoke softly to her in Vulcan. Whatever it was, it eased the tension from her tiny shoulders and brought color to the other Vulcan parent's face.

"Son, it is presumptuous of you to assume that this child's emotional instability is the fault of her human father's genetic contribution. You have overlooked the fact that her half-Vulcan father himself, lacks proper control and rationality. In truth, it is a wonder he can even call himself Vulcan at all. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to refer to him as Rihansu instead?"

Okay, _that word he understood. Hands fisting again, Giotto stepped forward, completely prepared to break his hands on that smug face. He was pulling back when a new voice joined the party._

"_Careful there Stonn, or Spock might break that pretty face of yours. Again." The captain stepped up and ran a hand over T'Sai's head, checking for injuries (that bond has to be the most convenient thing ever) but left her where she was. Presumably, if one were to hazard a guess, to keep the commander from choking a bitch._

"_Captain Kirk, it appears that your husband is as unstable now as he was in his youth. For your safety, it would benefit you to request he study with a Kohlinar adept. Although it is unlikely he could achieve completion of study, it is possible his Vulcan blood would allow him to retain some of their knowledge."_

"_And it would appear that you have not learned anything since our childhood encounters, Stonn. You are still rik'ozhika and it is truly unfortunate that you have passed this lack onto your offspring."_

"_Translation: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. There's bad blood between these two, in case you haven't guessed yet." Captain Kirk said to him in an aside. Well, he hadn't lowered his voice or even glanced his way but that was about as subtle as James Kirk got. What stunned Giotto was the captain's utter lack of concern. He was acting like it was an everyday normal occurrence to see two Vulcan males in a pissing contest that was close to devolving into violence. And he's seen a Vulcan in full rage, it was not a pretty sight._

"_Jim, if you would please accompany T'Sai to the ship I will join you shortly." Commander Spock shifted as if to pass his daughter over but the captain merely shook his head and stepped back._

"_Are you crazy? I'm not leaving if you're about to kick some Vulcan ass. I want to see and maybe join in. Cupcake, take T'Sai back to the ship and have McCoy check her hand. I think she's busted a finger."_

_Before he could respond, T'Sai voiced her own objections._

"_I would prefer to stay, Daddy. I believe I have not yet finished my discussion with Stonnick." Oh, that glare was as heated as Spock's and Giotto firmly believed she would be perfectly happy to reduce the boy to a bloody mess._

"_Violence is not Vulcan. It would appear, Spock, that you have been remiss in educating your child in the Vulcan way."_

"_I believe this discussion is at a close. At times," Spock spoke directly to his daughter as if imparting great knowledge, "We must accept that attaining understanding from those incapable of logic is fruitless and as your father would say, 'we must cut our losses'. Good day, Stonn. Stonnick." Without a backward glance, the commander turned, firmly took hold of his husband's wrist to compel him to follow, and headed back toward the city proper._

_They had barely reached the main street before the commander let loose his hold on the captain to clasp T'Sai's hand for closer inspection. _

"_I do not believe it is broken, Jim. Merely bruised." Tenderly, he lifted the swollen, greenish black digits to his mouth to press soft kisses over the damaged tissue. T'Sai lay her head against his shoulder and blinked back a trace of tears._

"_I'm sorry, sa-mekh."_

"_May I inquire as to what you are sorry for?" The commander brushed a finger across her pale cheek to ghost away the tear that had escaped._

"_I resorted to violence when provoked. I allowed my control to falter and behaved as one without logic. I am not Vulcan. I'm sorry I shamed you."_

_The commander stopped dead, closing his eyes against her quietly spoken words. Giotto knew he should allow them the privacy they deserved but he couldn't look away. He watched the captain step into the commander's body, resting his forehead against the back of his neck, hands gripping his hips in silent emotional support. It was an extremely personal display and he felt shocked and honored that they would allow such intimacy to be viewed by him._

_The commander drew a shuddered breath before pressing lips to T'Sai's forehead, cradling her head to his shoulder. _

"_You will never, could never cause me shame, ashaya. What has been expressed here by others is no reflection of my personal opinion. It is my desire that you choose who you are to be and to know that your options are infinite and not limited to Vulcan or Human. Trust me in this fact, ko-fu, no matter your choice, I will always be proud of you."_

_The moment was heavy, steeped in meaning that he couldn't grasp but was evident by the captains soft kiss to the commanders nape, and the subtle tremble that traveled the commanders frame. It didn't last long, however. With a sudden glint in his eyes, the captain shifted up on his toes to hook his chin over his husband's shoulder. _

"_Is that all you have to say, Spock?"_

_Giotto watched Commander Spock straighten, tug at his uniform shirt where T'Sai's leg had bunched it up and clear his throat. His entire demeanor screamed discomfort and it obviously amused the captain and had caught T'Sai's curiosity as well._

"_I would be remiss if I failed to mention that your violent outburst is not, in fact, unprecedented. In my youth, Stonnick's father provoked a similar reaction from myself."_

"_You hit him?" T'Sai's eyes bulged and her tone held a hint of awe._

"_Pummeled would be more accurate." The captain snickered when the commander swatted at him for his comment._

"_I merely expressed my differing opinion with more force than was necessary. Also, I broke his nose. I believe it could be said that it is now a family tradition."_

_Giotto couldn't contain the snort that escaped him but immediately sobered when the noise brought all attention to him. Suddenly he was once again aware of his discomfort and the sweat soaking his undershirt. He became more at ease when the captain slung an arm across his shoulders in a companionable manner as opposed to ripping him a new one for failing to protect his child._

"_I may be wrong, CC, but it looked like you were about to cause some damage when I came on the scene."_

"_Ah, yes sir. I admit, I was surely tempted."_

"_Good man. You would have had your ass handed to you before you could blink, but still, the thought counts. Now," The captain said with glee, rubbing his hands together. "I heard there was a certain ambassador who's acquired a recipe for senshai sorbet. I think we deserve a little treat after all of this craziness. You sure her hand's not broken? We could have McCoy beam down to check her out."_

"_She is well, Jim. I believe it would benefit us all to enjoy a moment of relaxation."_

_Giotto followed after the trio when the captain insisted that he accompany them to try Ambassador Spock's dessert. It wasn't long before T'Sai was on her feet and running ahead of them in her eagerness to taste the frozen concoction. With utter satisfaction, Giotto ambled along in the heavy heat of the colony as his commanding officers strolled together in quiet conversation. It truly was a beautiful day._

_ashaya: love (used as an endearment)_

_sa-mekh: father_

_ko-fu: daughter_

_Rhiansu: Romulan_

_rik'ozhika: without logic_

_senshai: A completely made up Vulcan fruit existing nowhere outside this story. _


	5. Second Chances

POV: Winona  
Year 1 of 1.5 yr refit after 1st 5yr mission  
T'Sai: 2 and 1/2 yrs old

*The entire series has been beta'd by the lovely notboldly50295 and the chapters have been updated. =)

* * *

Winona slowed her gait as the farmhouse came into view. The air was cool, raising the hair on her arms under her flannel. She hadn't thought to grab a jacket when she had made her escape nearly an hour ago. She had merely fled. She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and hunched into herself, more in shame at her actions than the chilly, spring air.

When Jim had called to arrange the visit, she had been ecstatic. She hadn't had to pester or nag him until he finally relented. Jim had been the one to reach out, to ask to see her and stay at the farm for a few days while he waited for Starfleet to arrange his teaching assignment while the _Enterprise _was undergoing its first official refit, the _actual_ first refit being directly after Nero and all that entailed. She still didn't know the complete story, knew only that Vulcan was gone and George had finally been avenged.

It had been a bittersweet moment. Admiral Komack had contacted her in the aftermath to assure her that Jim was alive and that those responsible for destroying the _Kelvin_ had been destroyed themselves. Jim hadn't called her until he was a captain, in space and recovering from his first sanctioned mission. The shiny, pink stretch of regenerated skin covering his neck and lower jaw clenched her stomach in a roiling mass of fear and worry. Jim was a captain. He was in space. He was going on missions. Her worst nightmare was, in fact, reality.

He had smiled and laughed, waving off her motherly concern with a smirk as he informed her that he understood her better now. His ship was his home, his crew his family and space his future. It broke her heart to hear those words come from her baby's lips. He didn't understand. He didn't know. And he was lost to her now. She would have no opportunity to atone for her actions in his youth, for leaving him for that merciless stretch of black her son now rushed toward.

Then, five years later, he called again.

It wasn't what she was expecting. She had expected her son to bound up her porch steps and inundate her with heroic tales of space travel. She expected stories of aliens, strange worlds, harrowing adventure and possibly, a tale or two about an intriguing woman. She had not expected her son to step onto her porch quietly, avoiding the squeaky second step in deference to the sleeping child held in his arms. She hadn't expected him to introduce her to his Vulcan bondmate, to suddenly be a grandmother or to realize with a rush of sadness that she had missed seeing her boy become a man.

She still heard all the stories, toned down so little ears could listen in, and Jim told her about a few intriguing women as well. There was Uhura and Chapel, only Jim spoke of them with affection and pride. There was a story about a Lieutenant Barrows and a rabbit that seemed to revolve around a man called Bones. She heard about Joanna and her attempt to mail herself to her father, who was apparently Jim's CMO and the owner of the aforementioned nickname. She heard about Scotty and his still, young Chekov and Jim's navigator, Hikaru Sulu. Jim's love for his people, his family, shone through the warmth in his eyes and the ever present smile on his face.

Which was the complete opposite of the emotionless blank stare etched across his husband's face. Spock. And that would be why she was currently stalking through barren fields, quickly moving from chilled to cold and dreading the point in time when she could no longer put off returning to the house. He seemed perfectly…_nice_? No. Pleasant wouldn't work either. He was cold, stand-offish, and he made her completely uncomfortable.

Had Jim introduced Spock as his friend, Winona would have been dubious. As husbands? Bondmates? No. Disbelieving is what she is. She wanted to ask. She wanted to know how they ended up together. Was it some botched alien ritual? Did they do it as a negotiation tactic during a first contact? Something had to have happened to force the bond. Aliens made them do it or something else just as horrific because it was improbable, no, impossible that Jim chose Spock of his own accord.

And they had a child. A biological child. Winona suppressed a shudder. T'Sai was adorable and the most lovely being Winona had ever laid eyes on. Yes, she loved her grandchild instantly. But the thought of Jim having to suffer through-

Winona kicked at a clump of wet leaves and sank down onto a stump. She had wanted better for Jim. She had wanted him to have what she had had with George. Instead, Jim was saddled with a robot. Even worse than Frank, she thought with another shiver as the wind picked up. Stubborn to the bone, she huddled into her shirt and leaned against her thighs to block the wind and conserve as much body heat as possible. She wasn't ready to return just yet.

It's not that Jim looked unhappy. In fact, he gave a very good impression of joy. She just couldn't put her faith in it. Jim had always been a good actor. And T'Sai was an exuberant bubble of mirth and curiosity. Her intelligence, no doubt, came from her Vulcan father. Not that Jim was unintelligent, he just wasn't Vulcan smart. The rest of T'Sai was pure Jim. Her infectious smile, her affectionate spirit and those warm eyes that shone as blue as her daddy's. It wasn't unreasonable for Winona to worry that her granddaughter's vivacious personality would one day be smothered under Vulcan control until it was a faded memory.

And perhaps Jim too would shine less brightly, be less _Jim _after years of Vulcan judgment pressing down on him. Winona would not have it. She stood quickly with newfound determination and stalked toward the house. Her house. George's house. She would force the truth out of Jim and they would find a way to fix things. Jim would have happiness and love in his life. He deserved no less.

Winona entered stealthily through the back door. She removed her mud-heavy boots and padded as quietly as she could toward the living room. She wanted to find Jim and draw him away without alerting Spock. She didn't think she could keep her doubts from spilling from her mouth if she had to look at that stern, unfeeling face for one more second.

She tiptoed down the hall and cautiously peered through the doorway to catch a glimpse of Jim. She found him right away, but he didn't hold her attention long. Her gaze drifted from his sleeping form sprawled out on the couch to the bodies lying on the floor instead. T'Sai and Spock lay on their stomachs, propped up on elbows, legs bent to allow hooked ankles to curve over their bodies. And they were coloring.

They attacked the coloring book, a leftover from Jim's childhood, from opposite sides. Spock, the picture of efficiency as he slowly and meticulously colored the crude drawing. T'Sai, on the other hand, gripped her fist around a pink crayon, chewed her lip in concentration, and scribbled in ever-widening circles.

It was an unexpected sight that grew ever more astounding the longer she observed from her half-hidden position. T'Sai pushed back from her page and tilted her head to the side before abandoning her pink crayon for a purple one. With a critical eye, Spock scanned the art-in-progress before pursing his stern lips.

"Is not pink an illogical color choice for an equine?"

Winona wanted to storm in and smack the air of superiority right out of him. She didn't. Instead, she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, waiting for T'Sai to respond.

"Daddy says that there are more worlds than we can count with inhabents that we couldn't ever imagine."

"Inhabitants. And I concede to your logic." T'Sai beamed up at her father before tackling the page with an orange crayon this time. "Your father and I once visited a planet with grass that exact shade of orange."

Wide blue eyes met his and silently begged for more details. Spock's mouth twitched in what might have passed for amusement before he continued.

"It was an uninhabited planet, which means it held no beings, sentient or otherwise. It was most aesthetically pleasing. The grass was waist high and stretched into the horizon. There were mountains in the southern hemisphere that appeared red when the sun set, yet were brown during daylight. And the moon glowed purple in the sky from a chemical reaction within the atmosphere. I believe, that your pink equine would be most pleased to live in such an environment. Your father called it a living rainbow and named the planet Crayola 64. I had not understood the reference until today."

"You brought me a picnic lunch on the second day and we slept under the stars. That was our one year anniversary, if I recall correctly."

Winona shot her gaze to Jim when he mumbled sleepily from the couch. His face radiated love and the sight made her heart ache. She turned to look at Spock and just stared. The transformation was stunning. Gone was the cool reserve and blank stoicism. What she saw instead mirrored Jim's own emotions. Love, affection, adoration flowed between them as they shared the memory. Spock lifted a hand toward Jim, two fingers extended and Jim didn't hesitate to meet them with two fingers of his own. And then Spock smiled. A soft, subtle upturn at the corner, but happiness streamed from it.

The moment shifted to include T'Sai when she requested they return to the planet and take her on a picnic. Then she asked what a picnic was and earned a chuckle from Jim. Winona couldn't take it anymore and ran from the house for the second time that day.

Jim found her huddled against the oak he fell from when he was five and earned his first three broken bones. He settled down next to her and draped the wool blanket from the foyer over their laps. She waited for him to say something, anything but he remained silent. She rested her head against the rough bark and shut her eyes to the moment she felt coming upon her. She had never been good at emotional moments, that had been George's specialty. Her eyes flew open when she felt Jim lay his head upon her shoulder and mumble into the heavy fleece of the jacket she had remembered her second time fleeing the house.

"What?"

Jim heaved a sigh and rolled his head against her to pin her with a tear-bright gaze.

"I'm sorry."

"What ever for?"

"For being so wrong about you for so long."

Winona shifted to get up but was trapped by a heavy arm settling across her waist.

"No. I need to say this. I'm sorry. I thought I understood why you left but I didn't. I couldn't. Not then. I get it now though. After Spock, normalcy wouldn't hold me either. If I lost him," Jim heaved a deep breath before continuing in a whisper meant only for her, "If I lost him, life would be too heavy. I would suffocate here under the weight of what used to be. I'd run too."

Winona felt years of repressed pain spear through her and swallowed thickly before reaching up to pat Jim's cheek in acknowledgement and ended up holding him there against her shoulder.

"Well, you were never that normal, Jim." She felt a huff of breath against her neck and turned to press a kiss against his brow. "I just couldn't heal here. That's all. I wasn't running from you or Sam. I was running from the hurt. I'm sorry."

"I understand."

They sat in silence as the sun began its slow descent across the horizon. It was nearly full dark before she felt strong enough to say what needed to be said.

"I'm happy for you, Jim."

"Me, too."

And what mother could ask for more?


End file.
